


Aquamarine Steel

by pilindiel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Almost Kiss, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Reassurance, M/M, Mind Control, Missed Opprotunities, Mutual Pining, Season 5 Spoilers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 00:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13869525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilindiel/pseuds/pilindiel
Summary: The door slides open along its track, a hiss of metal, and Keith slaps the light switch on the wall without really thinking about it.He doesn't expect to see a figure in the center of the already sparse room. He doesn't expect that musculature or the silhouette or the height, and he stops dead in his tracks just as his heart stumbles out of his chest.Shiro looks lost, too large for the space, and his eyes are wide in surprise, gray irises almost completely encompassed by the darkness of his pupils.Keith forgets how to breathe.





	Aquamarine Steel

The halls of the castle ship are quiet tonight, shades of lavender and blue dancing off the polished floor from the collapsing star in the distance, and it's just serene enough to set Keith on edge. It's crystalline and clean and peaceful, and Keith feels like he's intruding.

Something heavy coils in his gut, twisting his stomach in knots, and he has to patiently remind himself that he's only picking up something from what, up until recently, was his bedroom. You know, back when he was a paladin of Voltron, when his world wasn't full of covert missions and hushed orders. Back when the war was simple and he could join in camaraderie and laughter instead of cold rooms and silence.

His heart pounds when he thinks about more recent circumstances, when he thinks about Krolia and the strange position Keith now finds himself in emotionally, and he bites the inside of his cheek when he rushes a sharp breath out of his nose.

**_Later_ **. Worry about it later.

The door slides open along its track, a hiss of metal, and Keith slaps the light switch on the wall without really thinking about it.

He doesn't expect to see a figure in the center of the already sparse room. He doesn't expect that musculature or the silhouette or the height, and he stops dead in his tracks just as his heart stumbles out of his chest.

Shiro looks lost, too large for the space, and his eyes are wide in surprise, gray irises almost completely encompassed by the darkness of his pupils.

Keith forgets how to breathe.

He shouldn't be here. Keith hasn't seen him since the Kral Zera and that wasn't so much of a “meeting” as it was a “rescue”.  Even that felt distant and cold, with a lion and hundreds of Galra soldiers between them.

Though, that's not the only thing.

It feels like months since they've talked. Months since Keith left the team. Months since he left Shiro's side with nothing but a quick hug and empty words.

It stung just as strongly as Keith thought it would.

They've **_seen_ ** each other, certainly – Keith has seen Shiro during their coalition meetings, where Keith stands silent and stoic by Kolivan's side as a liaison – but Shiro's eyes never stray to him, Shiro never lingers. It's strictly business and Keith has to swallow the bile and disappointment every single time.

He tells himself it doesn't matter, that it's natural because of how Keith is: hotheaded, insubordinate, difficult, a **_loner_ **. So Keith throws himself into one mission after another and ignores the way his eyes sting late at night when he's left with nothing but the chill of his quarters at the base and his thoughts.

Then, Shiro says his name, timid but hopeful, and it's like they're back outside of Keith's desert shack whispering platitudes that warm Keith to his very core.

_It's good to have you back._

**_It's good to be back._ **

“Shiro,” Keith says, hoping he doesn't sound as breathless as he feels, “What are you doing in here?”

Shiro hunches his shoulders, looking almost guilty, before flicking his gaze back to the far side of the room.

Keith knows Shiro thinks he’s **_good_ ** at hiding it. Good at keeping up the facade and his composure. Good at brushing off concerns and scooting aside his own issues. He had everyone fooled for a while and that brings a comfort, almost – no one needs to know their leader is vulnerable. No one needs to know his weakness.

But Keith isn't a fool, and he can see the constant sweat beading on Shiro's brow, can see the way his teeth grit when he's not talking, can see the way his muscles are taut like he's always just barely holding back.

Even at his best, Shiro could never hide from Keith's perceptive eyes, but this is so much worse. Shiro looks like an open wound, raw and bleeding, and it pulls at something deep in Keith's heart, unraveling him.

It's natural to move into Shiro's space. Keith was worried there might be some hesitation to his steps, but there never is with them even when their footing is rocky, and his hand cups Shiro's bicep.

The muscle dwarfs his gloved fingers, but his grip remains strong.

“Shiro?” Keith asks, tentative. Soft. “What's wrong?”

Shiro's dark eyebrows pinch together and Keith is painfully aware of the gulp in his throat when he swallows.

“I...I don't know,” Shiro admits with a sigh, “My head just...”

Keith tightens his grasp and the stuttered breath Shiro takes sets off all of Keith's alarm bells.

**_Didn't he complain about headaches after getting back?_ **

“I feel like I'm...” Another breath, and Keith can see how the weight of it fills Shiro's lungs, “Like I'm not myself.”

He closes his eyes, brows furrowed like he's trying to concentrate on something Keith can't hear, and Keith is certain he's never seen Shiro look so haggard. Shiro balls his hand – the metal one, the **_Galra_ ** one – into a shaking fist that he holds tightly to his chest.

The breath he takes is sharp and the words tumble from him clumsily, but Keith can see the frustration etched in the creases between his brows and the clenching of his jaw.

“Everything...Everything just feels **_confusing_ ** ,” Shiro admits. He closes his eyes, sucks a breath in through his teeth, and Keith watches as it fills out the broadness of his chest.

It hurts, seeing Shiro like this. It's not the gentle vulnerability he's used to – when he and Shiro used to find time alone and Shiro would disclose his concerns under the backdrop of the stars or the warmth of a fire – but this is different. This is fear and doubt and a frustration that Keith knows is self-directed, self-destructive.

The knots that were in Keith's stomach churn and migrate up to his heart, constricting him until he suffocates.

“Shiro – ”

Shiro's fingers uncurl slowly and he watches as their metallic shine catches the low light.

“Everything's jumbled, Keith,” he says. When he looks up his face is open and earnest – that hope is there again – and he looks so lost and alone that Keith just wants to hold him until he realizes Keith has always been there, that Keith will always find him.

“Everything's jumbled and the only thing that makes sense is you.”

The sincerity of it all is what hurts most.

Keith's face falls even as his heartbeat reaches a crescendo.  It’s something Keith has always wanted to hear, an affirmation that their history really **_did_ ** mean something, that Keith **_isn’t_ ** alone.  But the crushing loneliness of the past couple of months mean the walls Shiro used to climb so easily are now reinforced and the initial elation feels clouded and leaves Keith hollow.  There's a flare in the back of his mind – one that pops up more frequently than he would like – that spits in anger and cries out in pain.

**_Why haven't you talked to me, then?_ **

But Shiro looks so helpless, so desperate for anything, that Keith can't blame him.  It’s **_Keith_ ** who’s the problem.  It’s **_Keith_ ** who ran away.  

Nothing is worth Shiro's pain, even his own.

Instead, Keith bites back the pain, extinguishes the anger, and gives Shiro's bicep a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“...Is that why you were in my room?” It's a simple question, and Keith keeps his voice as level as he's able. Relaxed. Tender.

It's easy to be soft around Shiro.

That seems to do the trick, at least, and Shiro deflates, letting his hand fall to his side.

“Yeah. I felt like...Like I needed to find something,” Shiro shakes his head and the smile he forces doesn't reach his eyes, “But I can't remember what it was.”

“It's okay.”

Shiro's chuckle is hollow and empty and it tightens around Keith's throat like a vice.

“No,” Shiro breathes, “It's really not.”

Keith puts his other hand on Shiro's shoulder, forcing Shiro to meet his eyes, and he makes sure his grip is as strong as his resolve.

“Whatever's going on, I'm **_here_ ** ,” Keith insists, “I'll do anything. Just...tell me what you need.”

Shiro gapes at him, surprised, and Keith would shake him if the look wasn't so endearing.

No matter what happens, Shiro **_has_ ** him. Shouldn't he know that by now?

Shiro's eyes flit briefly down to the floor before meeting Keith's. The way he swallows, the way he stares, makes Keith feel self-conscious and exposed, but he doesn't look away.

He never could.

Shiro takes half a step closer, palm coming up to cup Keith's elbow, and the contact alone has Keith's blood running hot.

The space around them shrinks. Warms.

Keith searches Shiro's expression almost frantically, trying to understand the torrent behind his eyes, trying to understand the intensity behind the way Shiro is looking at him.

The universe halts beneath their feet and everything falls away: the buzzing of the lights and low, constant hum of the castle melts to the thundering of Keith's heartbeat. The lavender glow from outside through Keith's still-open door envelopes them and only heightens the black flecks Keith sees in the gray of Shiro's irises.

**_Were those always there?_ ** Keith wonders, dazed, **_Didn't Shiro have hints of blue before?_ **

Keith can't tear his gaze away. Shiro's fingers squeeze his elbow.

It's too much. Keith's breath doesn't sink fully into his lungs, stuck somewhere between the warmth building in his chest and the anxious tightening of his throat, and he can't stop the slight tilt of his head or the quiet urging of his heart.

Shiro's other hand finds purchase on Keith's hip, his hand so large it molds perfectly against the curve of Keith's body, and the tension settles deep in Keith's abdomen, a viscous heat.  Shiro shifts his weight and shuffles a touch closer.

“Keith, I...” Shiro's voice is deep. Throaty. Strange. His eyes flick down to Keith's mouth and the gesture alone causes the cacophony in Keith's head to rise.

Inches. There's inches between them now they're so **_close_ **.

It would be so easy to bridge the distance, so easy to pour all his words and reassurances into a simple gesture, to bury himself in the heat that's crawling through his body from the press of Shiro's fingers and the humid, warm air ghosting over Keith's skin from Shiro's breath.

Shiro murmurs low in his throat and his trembling fingertips dig into Keith's skin so hard Keith isn't sure who's resolve he's trying to build up anymore.

They look at each other, just for a moment, and it cuts Keith to his core. Shiro is so open, so vulnerable and scared and his eyes are so clouded with something Keith can't place that it makes something sick and terrified and protective churn inside him.

Keith whispers Shiro's name, barely a sound.

Shiro pulls back and he takes Keith's heart with him. It's a fraction of a movement, but the hesitation in his eyes, the desperation, consolidates Keith in the knowledge that it isn't the right time. Not for the first time, Keith wonders if they've missed their moment somehow; back in those timid, warm nights at the garrison where they'd sneak onto the roof and dream about going to space.

How naive and distant it all seems now.

Shiro's stare drops, ashamed and fragile, and he becomes meek. He shrinks.

When he hangs his head it falls on Keith's shoulder and his breath is cold and wavering against Keith's skin. With a shudder, his large arms wrap around Keith's tiny frame, enveloping him in an embrace so tight tears pool in the corners of Keith's eyes.

Or maybe it's the continued loss of a long sought desire that makes Keith want to weep.

Shiro buries his face in the crook of Keith's neck, nuzzling into uncomfortable armor and padding, and he lets out a sigh that shakes both of them.

“I...I don't know what's going on anymore,” Shiro admits, words catching in his throat.

Keith wraps his arms around Shiro's broad shoulders, pulling him in ever closer, and runs his fingertips along the back of Shiro's neck, trying to soothe the tension in the muscles there.

“I don't know either,” Keith confers, “But I'm going to be here, no matter what.”

Shiro sags in his grip, releasing some of the tension built up in him with one final sigh, though his fingers dig a little more insistently into Keith's skin as if he’s trying to hold Keith to his word.

But even as he says it, Keith can't stop the prickle at the back of his neck, the doubt that always drips down from the top of his spine to his bones.

He swallows thickly and buries his face in Shiro's shoulder.

“As many times as it takes,” Keith murmurs, “ _As many times as it takes_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you notice how Shiro's eyes go almost black during season 5 in certain shots? Fun times ahahaha
> 
> My heart hurts.
> 
> Aw man you know what's fun?
> 
> I fully believe that the reason Shiro let Keith go in season 4 and keeps him at arm's length is because Haggar has seen how close they are and knows Keith would know something is up if he got close again and would stop at NOTHING to make sure Shiro was okay.
> 
> Also I hope you all enjoy this sweet sweet pain juice.
> 
> Hit me up on my [tumblr](http://pilindiel.tumblr.com/) if you'd like!


End file.
